The Rough Path
by naughty-grrrrl
Summary: Sometimes when John looked at Samantha he didn't even recognize his own child. It's a hard truth to admit, but it's the truth nonetheless. Part of my Good-Girls!Verse. Transgender!Sam.


**Title:** The Rough Path - 1/1  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Supernatural  
><strong>PairingCharacters:** John POV (behind the scenes Dean/Samanatha)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Wordcount:<strong> 645  
><strong>Status:<strong> Complete  
><strong>Series:<strong> Good Girls Do 'Verse. Story takes place in 1998, set halfway through "The Flaw in the Design".  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> References to pre-series canon events.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Language, references to violence, transgender issues.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Sometimes when John looked at Samantha he didn't even recognize his own child. It's a hard truth to admit, but it's the truth nonetheless.

**Author's Note:** This was originally a part of The Flaw in the Design, but during editing I decided to take it out. It didn't flow well with the story, so I decided to make a small one-shot into John's mind. Hope you all enjoy it, and remind to leave feedback. I'm a feedback junkie!

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><p>The sound of Samantha's giggle-snort filtered through the house and John looked up from the kitchen table where his favorite shotgun, the Benenelli M4, was dismantled and ready for cleaning in front of him. Samantha and Dean were sitting in front of the TV, watching some cartoon that made his eyes hurt for a second he looked at it. '<em>The things kids watched nowadays<em>' he thought as he shook his head.

Sammy had a leg tucked under her, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, a smile on her face as she watched the show. She had on one of her 'comfy' outfits, as she called them; a pair of pink shorts and matching hoody. The pink reminded John of Pepto Bismol.

Sometimes when John looked at Samantha he didn't even recognize his own child. It's a hard truth to admit, but it's the truth nonetheless. In a lot of ways Samantha is just like Sam, smart and sarcastic, always with her head in a book and a question on her tongue. But then there is the other side to her that John is completely mystified by… the giggles, the makeup, the clothes, the jewelry; the foreign femininity of her that has taken the place of his little boy.

He's clueless on how to bridge the gap between the baby boy he held in his arms and the blossoming woman maturing before his eyes and it saddens him because he feels as if he's lost his Sam, even though she's sitting right there in front of him.

John wondered how his Mary would have handled the situation with Samantha. He can't picture what she would say, but he knows without a doubt that she would have known the right words; murmuring them in that soft comforting voice she always used to do when he needed to know everything would be alright.

It's times like this when the pain of his wife's death reminds him that her death is like an open wound that has never healed over. The infected wound slowly killing him cell by cell, eating away at the happy well-adjusted family-man he once was, leaving behind nothing but a bitter and broken man that Mary probably wouldn't even recognize anymore if he stood right there in front of her.

He hates himself for what he's become, for what he's done to his children… for taking away any chance at a normal life with his revenge. He's ashamed of himself, but he can't go back… that life is gone and the only path left is vengeance. Vengeance for his Mary, vengeance for his children's lost childhood, vengeance for the death of his happiness and the long life together that he should have had with his wife.

It's a rough path, filled with blood, bullets, death and destruction. The years have melded together like some hazy bad dream, the hurt and the pain, the constant motion to make it right, to kill the bastard who took everything from them. It's a life that nobody should have to live, but it's the only thing he has left. So he might as well walk it.

With a new determination, John begins cleaning his Benenelli vigorously; mind working on a contact in the hunting world he hasn't stopped by to check on in a while.

Resolve washes over John like a burst of energy, a second wind in his sails (or maybe the twentieth, he's long since stopped counting), John begins making plans to head out before nightfall. Granger's place is five hours away and the old bastard likes to keep nocturnal hours for some fucked up reason John has long since stop trying to figure out. Maybe the hunter will have a lead on the demon… maybe he can finally find the evil SOB and make him pay for everything he took from the Winchester family.


End file.
